When his hand came across my mouth, I could not cry out, so firm was his stifling grasp, but I shuddered as deeply as I think it's possible for a person to shudder, and lost my balance, and fell back against him. He was naked himself, I realized, and his cock, enormous and hard, was against my back. His other hand was arrogantly between my thighs, under the water, moving possessively and caressingly, making me whimper into the hand across my mouth.
"Mine," he growled, and his voice was just different enough from its usual tone that I really did have a split-second's shocked doubt as to whether the man claiming me was my newly-wedded husband, or whether he had told someone else to come take me, or whether some man had noticed me taking off my bikini bottom and decided he wanted to come out and fuck the obviously slutty girl in the water.
"Mine," he repeated, in a more familiar tone, and God help me I started to cry, so wonderful was the wave of love that washed over me, as deep as the ocean I was looking out at, for he was my Charles, my top, my master, my bridegroom, and I was his wife.
He turned me around, then, to face him, and he, just as I longed for him to do, took my ass in both his hands. I put my own hands around the back of his neck, the way the girl is supposed to, and looked up into his beautiful brown eyes. "Yours," I sighed. Gently, he lifted me in the water, chest-deep on me, stomach-deep on him, and fitted my pussy on to his cock so that we both groaned, and my legs wrapped around his waist convulsively.
First Charles said, "Now, according to the ancient laws of men and women, you belong to me. In thee I plight my troth." He likes that stuff, and he generally delivers it pretty well.
I pulled myself against him with my legs, and tucked my bottom into him a bit so that it felt like his cock was going to reach my heart and he gave a manly whimper (if such a thing exists). Then, holding onto his shoulders, I climbed his body in the water a bit, and whispered the response into his ear, "To thee I give my troth."
Then he said, "I want to carry you back to our room like this."
I laughed, and rocked against him, sending a spark of pleasure through my body so great that I had to do it again, immediately, and again, and again. I said, "Why not?" (and again) "It's our honeymoon, right?" (and again) "The people in the lobby. . . would probably. . . applaud. . . oh my god. . . Charles. . . Sir, may I. . ."
"No," said Charles, firmly removing me from his cock (this had been one of his commands--that that night I would ask permission to come). He stood me up in the water, still facing him, and held my hands in his. The double-meaning of the gesture was marvelous--both romantic and erotic, affectionately touching and also sternly keeping me from reaching down to my aching cunt. "You're not going to come for quite a while, Mrs. Smith."